How I Came To Be A Showman!

Hendo Hatches a Plan.

"Hurry Up and eat your sandwich. We gotta go somewhere," said Hendo. He'd just scarfed down a triple decker sandwich from Perry's Deli. I was still in the middle of the second half of my sandwich. I couldn't imagine what kind of burr he'd had up his butt.

"What? Why?" I asked. See? I cut straight through the bullshit. After all, this was Perry's Deli, we're talkin' about here.

"I want to go show you something. It'll be fun." he said. And I could see from the devils smile that he was spreadin' that it was going to be trouble, "And if they'll let us. We're going to join today."

"Join Today?" Join WHAT today?

Clearly, Hendo had a plan for something and since those usually lead to some sort of crazy ass adventure, who was I to get in the way? I finished my sandwich and cleared the table and we began our walk down Franklin Ave.

"I saw this place on my walk over to the deli and I was like, WHAT IS THAT? I had to cross the street to check it out. You're gonna love this. I think we should join." I scanned ahead, but I had no idea what he was talking about. But he was so excited. It had to be good, whatever it was.

And so we stopped walking at the corner of Franklin and Randolph and Hendo gestured at the building there and said, "Ta Daaaaaaah!" It was a little 4 story building. Downstairs was a tiny hot dog joint.



Truth be told, I'd walked past it a million times in the three years that I used to work by it. But I'd never taken the time to really explore it. Over top of each window on the building, there were these cast iron elephants, trunks raised in mid-hoot.



The awning out front told me that it was the National Headquarters of the Showmen's League of America.



I stood there, looking up at the building and thinking, "What are we doing here?". But before I could ask him, Hendo already had his phone out, and was calling someone. He looked at me and smiled, "You just wait. This'll be great."

Someone on the other end of the phone answered and Hendo said. "Hello. My name is Mark Henderson. And I am a Showman. I'd like to join your League."

There was a pause and then the guy on the other end asked something.

Hendo said, "Yes. I'm ABSOLUTELY serious. How do I join?"

The guy on the other end of the phone, who turned out the be the treasurer, directed us to call the main office and explain what we wanted, to their secretary, Diane. Hendo repeated the number to me and hung up. I gave him back the number and he called Diane.

"Hello. Yes. My name is Mark Henderson. I just got off the phone with your treasurer and he advised me to call you. I am a showman and I'd like to join your League."

A pause.

"Well, I am actually standing outside your office, right now. Are you inside."

As it turns out, she was. Diane agreed to bring down two applications to us. Hendo hung up and laughed out loud. "She's bringing us the applications. I told you that this was going to be fun!"

And that's when I started giggling.



An Abridged History of The Showmen's League of America.

This is taken directly from their website.

On February 19,1913, a small group of dedicated "out-of-doors showmen" met at the Saratoga Hotel, in Chicago, Ill. Those present agreed that the time had come for an international organization that would cater to the needs and wishes of carnival people everywhere, through good times and bad. Thus, The Showmen's League of America was born.

U. J. "Sport" Hermann chaired this historic meeting. Under his stewardship, committees were formed and a slate of officers plus a Board of Governors acted upon. Subsequently, Colonel William "Buffalo Bill" Cody, famed "Wild West" figure and showmen in his own right, was elected the groups first president.



From its very beginning, The Showmen's League of America promoted friendship and good fellowship among its members. but there were other, more lofty aims, as well. Its charter members pledged to care for their industry's needy ... those who were ill, destitute, or without family support. and those who would require proper burial, when the time came and their families could not afford it.

At their first meeting, the showmen present contributed some $1,385.00 - an impressive sum in those days - to get their program underway. They also selected the elephant as the symbol of their League, describing their choice thusly:

"The elephant in rampant, with uplifted trunk, exemplifying in every particular the characteristics of the showman, not only alert and sagacious, but victorious as well"

March 15, 1913, saw the League's first banquet, since an annual tradition. At the initial banquet, the group's bylaws were framed.

The Showmen's League of America has survived and prospered over the ensuing years through the spirit, goodwill and determination established by its 40 charter members and the able and dedicated leaders who followed them. Our founders' legacy is our precious treasure ... and their enduring monument.

Over The Years, The S.L.A. Entertains Between 500And 800 Mentally And Physically Challenged Children Each Year At The League's Annual Christmas Party

These And Numerous Other Unheralded Acts, all trace their Beginnings To That Small Group Of Showmen's meeting In Chicago In 1913. Generation After Generation Of Showmen's League Officers And Members Have Kept Their Hopes And Dreams Alive

The Showmen's League Of America, Recognized And Called "The Mother Club" Of The Amusement World, Begins Its 87Th Year In Celebration Of Its Birthday Feb 19,1999.. At That Time The Over 3,000 Members Of The S.L.A. Within It's Chapters And Ladies Auxiliary, Have Valid Reasons To Say, " We Are Doing A Good job"

Getting Registered!

Diane came down with two applications in hand. She was all smiles, when she looked us over. When it was clear to her that we weren't two thugs, she invited us in.

"Hi, I'm Diane. I'm the acting secretary for the League. How did you guys find out about us?" she asked.

"I was on my way to get lunch with my friend here and I saw your building. I was so excited that I ran across the street, through traffic to come check it out." said Hendo. "This guy and I are in a Burlesque show, actually. We think that might make us eligible for membership."

"Burlesque? Really? We don't see too many of you guys anymore," she said. And she welcomed us into THE VERY TINY ELEVATOR.


Diane, holding up a picture of a famous League Alumni, Gene Autry.

"Didn't I see this elevator in The Producers?" asked Hendo. Diane laughed and packed us all in. Honestly, there wasn't room for a fourth person. Diane was packed between two big beefy guys, as this tiny elevator rattled upwards.

"We just recently renovated the whole building," said Diane, " One of the things that we couldn't do, was to rebuild the elevator shaft. So, we had to find a company that would create an elevator in the original elevator shaft. It's a tight fit. Especially with three people."

She wasn't kidding. We were all smooshed together. I looked over at Hendo and he smiled at me, as if to say, "Do you believe this?"

The elevator dumped us out on the fourth floor at the top of the building. Through all the windows, you had a view of the traffic hustling down Franklin Ave. The place smelled like a library. Old books and dust and a hint of mildew.

Diane directed us to a table, gave us two pens and let us fill out our applications. I got the impression that she'd not actually seen anybody in the office for days. And she confirmed as much.

"Everybody in the League is out on the road, right now. So, I don't get many visitors." she said. While Hendo filled out the rest of his application, Diane showed me a hard-bound copy of Billboard magazine from the 1930's. Apparently, Billboard was the magazine of choice for circus and theater performers, before it turned it's focus solely to music. Diane explained that there'd been a fire at the last location, but that they'd been very lucky to save all the hard bound copies of the Billboards. There were literally almost a hundred boxes of the same books of old Billboards along the walls. Diane said that she passed the quiet times, reading them and learning about the old days of performance.

I looked down at the copy of the book in front of me. From 1932. I read an interesting, short little piece about "The Amazing Chumways". I'll try to recollect it for you, here.

The Amazing Chumways.

The Amazing Chumways to return!
Honolulu,(T.H.)
The Amazing Chumways would like to reassure all of their fans that they will soon return their act to full strength. As you may very well know, Ms. Chumway, who performs under the name "The Amazing Virginia" although her name is actually Doris, suffered an injury recently in the Ball of Death. While riding on the motorcycle with Mr. Chumway, Mrs. Chumway fell off of the motorcycle and suffered some bruises and a shoulder injury.
While Ms. Chumway recovers, Mr. Chumway, who goes by the name "The Amazing Donald" would like everyone to know that he will continue to perform the Ball of Death, nonetheless. When Mrs. Chumway is fully healed, she will return to the act.

The Happy Candidates!

"You know, when I used to perform, I went by the name 'Bubbles'" said Diane.

"Really." said Hendo, "Were you a Burlesque dancer too?"

"Oh my no. I was a Shriner clown for many, many years." said Diane. "The used to call me Bubbles Burmeister. Burmeister is my last name."

"I see," said Hendo. He glanced over at me impatiently, as I struggled to finish my application. I was stuck on one question and what I should say there.

The question was:
Do you Believe in a Supreme Being?

At first,I couldn't believe that it was on the questionnaire in the first place. Do I believe in a Supreme Being? Who the Hell was asking? Didn't this organization know that they could get into a LOT of trouble for asking that? What if I put "Yes, I believe in the Elder Gods Who Shall Not Be Named. They require regular ritual sacrifice." And when my application got rejected, on the very reasonable grounds that I was a complete loony, I'd sue their carney asses off religious discrimination. A problem that they could've avoided if they'd just omitted the question.

To make matters worse, I'm an atheist. I actively don't believe in God. Any god. I don't believe in him/them at all. And would this group shun me, for my different philosophy? Instinctively I assumed that these were all Christians or Catholics, running the group. Would they tolerate a non-believer in the ranks?

I looked at Hendo and he looked ready for me to finish and I just put "Yes, I do." as my answer. I figured that these guys weren't really going to question me for this. And if they did, I could 'fess up. "Yes, I lied on my application, because I didn't want to be shunned by Christian Carneys."

Bubbles took our applications and Hendo's cash (he leaned over to me and said,"You owe me $50, buddy.") and added our names to our notices of membership. Which she gave us, right away.

They looked like this...



Hendo was Member #946.
I was Member #947.

Later, it made me think that an organization that has almost 100 years in existence, has less than a thousands members. Hendo thinks that they just re-use numbers when people die off or leave the group.
I don't think so.
I think that this group never REALLY actively pursued membership and even less so, in these twilight days of the carnival circuits. Less and less people are signing up to join the circus or the carnivals. Even fewer are joining their "mother organization".

Later, Bubbles confirmed this by saying that she'd never had two guys just walk up and join the League before. People usually join after they've begun working for a circus or carnival. They never just show up and join.

Which leads me to think that Hendo and I are getting on board in the twilight days of this organization, too. (Cue sad calliope music.)

Bubbles gave us our letter and cards, and because Hendo sweet-talked her, a couple of t-shirts too. She handed him a receipt and Hendo and I were officially members of League of Showmen of America.



At Hendo's suggestion, we took a few pictures with Bubbles, congratulating us on our new membership.


Bubbles and I are both giggling in this picture.



Hendo joked later that he was going to use this picture, when he ran for president in a few years. Come to think of it, maybe he wasn't joking, after all.

We left the League with our new t-shirts, our letters, and our membership cards. When we got to the street corner, we just stood there laughing for a good, long while.

"See? Didn't I tell you that was going to be awesome?" said Hendo.

"You were right. It WAS an adventure," I said.

"What are you getting into tonight?" asked Hendo.

"I think I'm going to go get my letter framed and hang it up in my room."

"You know. That's not a bad idea, at all." Hendo walked away with his t-shirt draped over his shoulder. When I got home, he emailed this picture to me.



From One Showman to Another.

Cheers,
Mr.B